


Tears from a Long Time Ago (part 2)

by DesireeArmfeldt



Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_snippets | dsc6dsnippets, Friendship, POV First Person, Prompt Fic, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Episode tag for <i>Ladies' Man.  </i>Companion to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1038885">Tears From a Long Time Ago.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears from a Long Time Ago (part 2)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Tears from a Long Time Ago](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038885) by [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt). 



> Written for the prompt "These are tears from a long time ago" at [ds-snippets.](ds-snippets.livejournal.com)

Ray is crying.

Openly, in front of me, not even trying to conceal it.  The dark conceals his face, but not the harsh sound of his weeping.

For a moment, I wonder if the kindest thing I could do right now would be to leave him in privacy.  But as soon as I think the question, I know that the answer is no.  Ray isn’t trying to hide from me, protect himself, save face.

He wants me here.  Needs me, even.  I don’t understand why, but I don’t need to.

Two days ago, I talked him down from the edge of desperate, irrational violence.  He held a gun to a man’s head, waiting for me to remind him why he didn’t want to pull the trigger.  He cracked himself open and dared me to look inside.  Not for the first time.

Everything he needed to do to make things right, he did, or could have done if I hadn’t been there to help.  The pieces were all there for him to put together.  He had the desire and the skill and the courage to do it.  He didn’t need me.

But he did.  And he does.

Somehow I make it possible for him to go where he needs to go.  This doesn’t need to make sense.  Feelings rarely do.

I don’t show my feelings much.  Old habit, learned from my father, or for other reasons.  It’s how I am, now.  I am glad to lend my strength to others.  It’s a kind of consolation.  And yet.

I lay a hand on my friend’s shoulder as he cries beside me in the dim car.  And I feel something shift and fracture inside me, like pond-ice when spring is around the corner.

We don’t speak.  Nothing needs to be said.


End file.
